My Story | Survivor Stories | Male Survivors | Resources
Safety Tips | Speaking Out | Triggering Media | The Wall
Distractions | Poetry | Guilt and Shame | Anger | Statistics
Physical Aftermath | Emotional Aftermath | Tori Amos
Relationships | Quotations | PTSD | Medications | FAQ
Books | RAINN | Articles | Message Board | Chat Room
Search Engine | Banner Exchange | Link Banners
Guestbook | Email

Survivor Stories

My husband cannot understnad why washing dishes in so hard for me... so traumatic for me.

When I was 5 years old my mother went out on a date, she left me and my baby brother with her younger brother as a babysitter. According to information I have gained from other family members over the years this 'Uncle' of mine had had serious mental issues since he was a child.

To this day I cannot understand WHY she left us with him. Or all the times after this night she left us with him.

As she was leaving, my baby brother was alseep, she told me I could watch television for a while, but to be a good girl and to do what I was told.

Shortly after she left my uncle; who was about 18 years old told me to go do the dishes in the kitchen. I used to be my moms 'helper' and she would pay me a nickle for 'helping' with the dishes, though I am sure I made more mess than helped, and I figuerd I should 'Do what I was told' and I might get a nickle.

I was wearing an orange and white plaid apron over my dress. I was standing on a red stool so that I could reach the sink properly. I was trying to do the dishes as good as my mother did them when we worked together.

He came in the kitchen and told me he liked my skirt. He then said he wanted to look at it while I washed the dishes. Sitting on the floor at my feet he began to touch my bare legs and run his finger up them to touch my skirt hem.

I got afraid then, and asked him what he was doing. Moving around so that I had my back to the sink and looking down at him he said he wanted me to wash dishes and be 'a nudie girl' for him.

I said no, and stomped my foot.

He suddenly wasnt gentle anymore, he ripped off my clothes, turned me around, and told me to start washing. Now I was sobbing and praying in my head for my mother to come home. I just wanted her to come save me from this pimply faced man.

As I was trying to wash dishes with shaking hands he groped me all over my body and told me to spread my legs. I did as I was told because now I was screaming at my mother in my head, screaming for her to come home and I was numb everywhere else.

He began to perform oral sex on my and when he pushed his thick finger into my vagina I screamed as if someone had cut out my heart.

This scream woke my baby brother, and as he cried, this horrible man told me he would do all this and worse to my brother if I wasnt good for him. So I remained still, and let him perform oral sex on me and digitally invade my vagina.

When he was done with that, he made me sit on the stool and perform oral sex on him. I kept wising in my head that my mother would come home, walk in on him doing this to me and my brother screaming blue murder and that she would die from seeing this spectacle. That she would die from shock and horror. Because I was already dead.

But she didn't come home, and he ejaculated all over myface, smushing his spem in with my tears he told me to get clean, dressed and go check on my brother.

When I had done all this, like a good little robot-girl, he told me to get to bed before my mother got home, and if I ever told her what had happened he would kill my baby brother.

I went to bed, but not to sleep. I didn't sleep for three days, or eat, or talk. Every time I looked at my mother I wished spears would fly from my eyes and kill her. I began to have visions of her covered in blood and shreaking with pain as she died. And finally those visions faded. And I never saw her as my mother again, because she let me down. And continued to do so for the next 6 years.

I tried to tell people that I was being abused, my teachers, my grandmother, my moms new boyfriend. Either I wasn't being clear enough, or no one cared, becausse no one ever did anything. This man continued to babysit me, and cruelly rape and brutalize me all the while telling me he would kill my brother if i told.

By the age of 7, I stopped hoping that someone would listen to me. Whenever I looked at my little brother I felt so proud, Like I was his knight in shining armor and he didn't even know it. I was glad I had saved him from this monster.

An for the next 4 years thing you cannot even imagine happened to me. I did not find my voice until I was 11 years old.

One day when he was about to enter my room, I told him I knew now that what he was doing was something he could go to jail for and asked how long did he think I was gonig to be silent.

He never touched me again.

I am now 25 years old, I still have flashbacks EVERY time I do the dishes. My husband cannot understand why I hate it so much, and I cannot bear to explain it to him. I have been saving up for a new dishwashing machine for months now as the last one broke in august, but money is tight you know.

I have never received counselling for my years of sexual abuse. I don't think I could relive all that horror and not go insane. Adult minds are so much less resiliant than that of a child.

I have a son, whom I NEVER leave unattended with strange or questionable people. Sometimes I wonder if there is anyway to really protect him.

I may have survived my abusive childhood. But I think it will take so much more to recover from it. I wish all the survivors out there peice of mind and strength of will.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.


My story is that I was sexually abused by my one brother, who is 10 1/2 yrs older than me. I think I was about 6 or 7 yrs old to his 17 or 18 yrs. It finally stopped when I was 12 years old when my sister found out. I am the youngest of 5 children and he is the middle child. You could say his my half brother because my he and our other two brothers and sister are from my mom's first marriage and I'm from the second marriage of both my parents. I don't really remember all of the abuse except about 5 times when my brother would take advanage of me. The things I remember him doing to me was making me suck his dick, him fondling me, kissing me, and trying to go all the way with me. I remember pain that caused and to this day I am still not very sure if I am a virgin or not. There was one other person that just french kissed me and that was my dad's brother in law from his first marriage. I also let three girls about my age or younger take advanage of me. With one of the girls I was still being abused my brother. That girl was a neighor of one of my other brothers(not perp) and sister in law's. We would play house where she was the baby and I was the mom breast feeding her. Another girl was my sister in law's niece and we would play in bed when one or two times that she or I would be staying the night that one's house. The last girl was someone I went to high school with. She would want me to play house with her or play doctor. I was so naive at that age I would do anything just to have a friend. When my brother was abusing me I didn't know that what he was doing to me was wrong.

I have been working through some of this with a therapist and support groups and the most important is with my church and my belief in God. I can say that if it hadn't been for God, I would not by here today.

Jessica Norris
icq: 116295565
im: jesnorris


I've been reading all the survivor stories here and it makes me feel like such a coward. Y'see, I haven't been raped. What happened to me was something else and yet I feel just as sick and ashamed as the other survivors. Compared to my story, rape is a much worse thing and my story seems insignificant in comparison. However, it has haunted me for nine years.

I was a child. A stupid, naive, little girl. I was nine years old and I used to play with a boy from down the road. His name was Russell and though he was four years older than me we were best friends. We did everything together, we went swimming, played cards, sang songs. I adored him. We used to play at "make believe" in my dad's garage. My dad repairs videos so there were always various t.v. parts all over the place. We used to pretend it was a space ship. Anyway, one day Russell introduced me and my younger brother, Peter to his older brother, Grant. I didn't like Grant much. He was always picking on me and laughing. He was fifteen and horrid.

One time, Russell, Peter and I were playing space ships in the garage when Russell went in for his tea. Peter and I continued playing, waiting for him to come back. He didn't. Instead Grant came out and said Russell had to stay in. He wanted to play instead. He told me to play a new game. He got me to bend down in front of him (Peter was watching) and then Grant showed me his penis. He said I should suck the end of it. I didn't want to but he said I had to. So I did. I was so stupid! I wasn't forced, or threatened physically and that has made it as much my fault as his. Then Peter was told to do it. After that we were doing it all the time. I hated it. I tried to tell Russell but he didn't believe me. He thought I was making it up. Grant said if I ever told my mum, he'd tell everyone it was my fault. He'd tell Russell, I asked him to do it! Plus he said no one would believe me.

After about two years of doing this weekly, it stopped. Just like that. I convinced myself it was all a dream. My brother doesn't remember it. I pretended it didn't happen but I knew things...I knew things about male dicks no eleven year old could know. Like you can get sperm out by sucking it. Still, I pretended it didn't happen. I stopped playing out after that. I stayed in, studied, read books. I was sure it was over. I was still friends with Russell though, we lived in the same street.

In February of this year, Russell asked me out. I was delighted. I adored him and I said yes. Things were good. One day, we went to Bluewater for the day. I was excited but then I found out Grant was coming to. I ignored my horror and went along. I stayed as far away from him as possible. When he came up behind me in a shop, I jumped outta my skin. Still, I didn't feel all that bad really.

In March, Russell and I decided to take things further. I showed him my breasts and things were going well. Then he showed me his penis and I threw up over the carpet! He was horrified and told me I was a lesbian because "normal" girls didn't react that way. I couldn't tell him the truth. He wouldn't believe it nine years ago, why should he now? Our relationship ended that day. I'd lost my first love and my best friend all at once and it was all my fault. When I went home I finally told mum everything. I cried my eyes out but I felt better for it.

I still miss Russell. I really loved him and I've tried three times to contact him but he never replied. I guess I'll have to accept that.

Two months ago, I went to see an art exhibit at the Tate Modern. There was this piece of film with a naked man jumping up and down. My friends were all laughing at it. I hurried past fighting the urge to vomit. Later, my friends said it was alright with them that I was a lesbian but I'M NOT! I like guys and all but I can't get past this thing I have over the male penis.

So, thats my story. The one I've only just accepted as my reality. I'm the "LESBIAN" Girl who can't stand male organs. God, I am a coward aren't I? Everyone else has been raped when I've just had that....I really need to talk. Please, someone, tell me everything will be alright...


Tell your story.

[Page 1 | Page 2 | Page 3 | Page 4 | Page 5 | Page 6 | Page 7 | Page 8 | Page 9 | Page 10 | Page 11 | Page 12 | Page 13 | Page 14 | Page 15 | Page 16 | Page 17 | Page 18 | Page 19 | Page 20 | Page 21 | Page 22 | Page 23 | Page 24 | Page 25 | Page 26 | Page 27 | Page 28 | Page 29 | Page 30 | Page 31 | Page 32 | Page 33 | Page 34 | Page 35 | Page 36 | Page 37 | Page 38 | Page 39 | Page 40 | Page 41 | Page 42 | Page 43 | Page 44 | Page 45 | Page 46 | Page 47 | Page 48 | Page 49 | Page 50 | Page 51 | Page 52 | Page 53 | Page 54 | Page 55 | Page 56 | Page 57 | Page 58 | Page 59 | Page 60 | Page 61 | Page 62 | Page 63 | Page 64 | Page 65 | Page 66 | Page 67 | Page 68 | Page 69 | Page 70 | Page 71 | Page 72 | Page 73 | Page 74 | Page 75 | Page 76 | Page 77 | Page 78 | Page 79 | Page 80 | Page 81 | Page 82 | Page 83 | Page 84 | Page 85 | Page 86 | Page 87 | Page 88 | Page 89 | Page 90 | Page 91 | Page 92 | Page 93 | Page 94 | Page 95 | Page 96 | Page 97 | Page 98 | Page 99 | Page 100 | Page 101 | Page 102 | Page 103 | Page 104 | Page 105 | Page 106 | Page 107 | Page 108 | Page 109 | Page 110 | Page 111 | Page 112 | Page 113 | Page 114 | Page 115 | Page 116 | Page 117 | Page 118 | Page 119 | Page 120 | Page 121 | Page 122 | Page 123 | Page 124 | Page 125 | Page 126 | Page 127 | Page 128 | Page 129 | Page 130 | Page 131 | Page 132 | Page 133 | Page 134 | Page 135 | Page 136 | Page 137 | Page 138 | Page 139 | Page 140 | Page 141 | Page 142 | Page 143 | Page 144 | Page 145 | Page 146 | Page 147 | Page 148 | Page 149 | Page 150 | Page 151 | Page 152 | Page 153 | Page 154 | Page 155 | Page 156 | Page 157 | Page 158 | Page 159 | Page 160 | Page 161 | Page 162 | Page 163 | Page 164 | Page 165 | Page 166 | Page 167 | Page 168 | Page 169 | Page 170 | Page 171 | Page 172 | Page 173 | Page 174 | Page 175 | Page 176 | Page 177 | Page 178 | Page 179 | Page 180 | Page 181 | Page 182 | Page 183 | Page 184 | Page 185 | Page 186 | Page 187]

To view the next page of stories click the image
below or use the links above to select a page.

Quotations | Message Board | Articles | [ Home | My Story | Survivor Stories | Resources | Safety Tips | The Wall | Distractions | Poetry | Guilt and Shame | Relationships | The Aftermath | Anger | Statistics | Tori Amos | Search Engine | Banner Exchange | Link Banners | Webrings | Guestbook | Email ]